


you say, look up!

by destronomics



Category: DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-25
Updated: 2009-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 17:12:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destronomics/pseuds/destronomics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They both go far away from what might have been home, once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you say, look up!

School goes by pretty quickly, and before she knows it the bell has rung and she finds herself already making her way back home. She has a bike, a cherry red bike with a basket hitched to it because Leslie promised her she could have anything that she could ever want and she wanted this bike -this faux retro bike painted bright, bright red. The wheels were white and the bike was red and the basket was green, exactly the sort of thing that made Leslie frown. Stephanie had insisted, however, and no one could really say "no" to the girl with a limp and a big, bright smile.

It sometimes hits her that she's a thousand miles from what was once home, that she is in an entirely different country with entirely different friends -she has friends!- and clothes and hair and everything. Red hair, she had insisted, strawberry red like Nancy Drew and Dana Scully, and green eyes because what other color goes with red?

"Sorta like Christmas every day, you know?" She tells her optometrist when she finally settles on the color. She says it mostly to piss off Leslie because lately it's so easy. He raises an eyebrow, but continues filling out the prescription while Leslie equally tries her damnedest to hide her exasperated sigh.

Stephanie hears it, but doesn't say anything. She's not wrong about the color, though. It looks-

She blinks at herself in the mirror, then smiles.

Honestly, what else can she choose?

"The point is not to get noticed," Leslie says later, steering the car carefully though the small town's streets, "the point-"

"-the point is that I like green eyes. I think they look pretty."

Leslie just sighs again, her eyes looking straight forward, trying not to get too impatient.

Besides, it's early. They'll have plenty of time to get on each other's nerves later.

**

It takes her a while to get adjusted, of course, but -and she can't believe she thinks this- her limp makes it easier. People hold open doors for her, and while she passed under they arms, they'd usually exchange names.

"Cassandra," She finally says, once she doesn't feel so awkward, "Cass, if you want to be impatient about it."

This always draws out at least a chuckle, and more often than not, they remember her name enough times that she becomes something like a friend.

**

One night she comes home from a study session to the sight of Leslie, quietly fuming on the couch. It's 2 AM and Leslie still has her lab coat on, like she just got home five minutes ago even though Stephanie knows that's not really the case.

"I was jus-"

"Why are you telling everyone your name is 'Cassandra'?"

Stephanie quickly blinks, taking the moment to consider her response.

"I-"

"He will find us and I can't-" Leslie looks frighteningly small against the couch, small and scared and worried and everything a mother should be. Which is weird, because Leslie never tried to be her mother, just as Stephanie never knew she could be any sort of good daughter. But she _is_, and Leslie _is_ and they both _are_ and it's just all so intensely _weird_.

There is nothing she can say then, at that very moment of odd, comforting realization, so she goes to her room because she can't, she _can't_-

Stephanie spends the rest of the night thinking about ways to change her name, but something inside her won't let her settle on anything else but the one she already had.

'Cassie' just feels right -too right to change, not after everything.

**

She graduates top of her class, because after everything, concentrating on a few simple math problems and writing a few essays doesn't seem to be as much of a burden as it did before. Sometimes she even finds herself enjoying it, which is equally as strange.

There's the chance to make a speech, what with being the top student and all. Stephanie doesn't have to ask Leslie what she should do, just turns it down immediately and offers to help the runner-up, already nervous at the thought of being in front of so many expectant people.

"Don't worry," Stephanie tells her, patting her gently on her shoulder, "It's never as scary as it is in your head."

She remembers Tim telling her that, back when he was still Robin, back when she didn't know him as anything else. One hand had been around her waist, resting just above her utility belt, the other wrapped around her right hand, showing her where to place her fingers on the line.

She remembers taking in a deep breath, just to feel his fingers become feather-light against her stomach. It had felt nice -that touch- that brief moment before it all.

They had both fallen, then, from the high ledge above a nondescript Gotham alley, the line impossibly loose before jerking so hard that she found bruises on her hip from where he, even with all his expertise, wanted to make sure she was safe.

He would touch the bruises later that night, in her room, his lips just below her ear, and whisper "sorry" over and over and over again until she shut him up the only way she knew how.

**

Sometimes Leslie needs to make sure Stephanie is really there, really breathing. Just to be sure, absolutely.

She presses against the door lightly, just enough to peek inside.

She watches Stephanie's form on the bed, watches the way the blanket moves, making sure to count the space between each breath.

"On three," The boy in her dreams whispers in her ear, "One."

"Two." Leslie always counts.

"Three." The girl once called Stephanie beats him to the punch and grips the rope in their hands and for the first(last) time they fall, fall, fall...


End file.
